


All I Want For Christmas Is You (Two)

by fantastik_obskurials



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Blow Jobs, Christmas Smut, Erotic dances and public boners, Graves in a santa suit, Hand Jobs, Hints of Fluff, M/M, Sexy elves Newt and Credence, Smut, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-18 04:37:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13092549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fantastik_obskurials/pseuds/fantastik_obskurials
Summary: “Not a fucking chance.”“You lost the bet Graves. Lose the bet, wear the suit.”***Dean Percival Graves has been pining over boyfriends Newt and Credence, who may or may not have been pining back.It's a good job that Queenie and Seraphina have the perfect plan to get them together, a plan involving one santa suit and two rather dubious elf costumes.





	All I Want For Christmas Is You (Two)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aliaaaaaa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliaaaaaa/gifts).



> This is kind of from a college au verse that I’ve been working on (which may eventually appear):
> 
> Newt is a zoology professor, an odd genius who fell in love with Credence, who is now a more mature student at the college (having had the usual difficulties getting through school while escaping an abusive home).  
> Although very much in love, they both have a serious crush on the new Dean of the science faculty, and resident hardass, Percival Graves.  
> This is a humorous version of how they might have all got together at Christmastime.  
> Graves says fuck a lot.

“Not a fucking chance.”

He was a rock, a wall of steel; he wasn’t budging on this.

“You lost the bet Graves. Lose the bet, wear the suit.”

If he was a rock, she was a mountain. Picquery’s expression was blank, disinterested, but he could see the amusement in her eyes. If they weren’t in the office she would be laughing.

He was not going to beg. His implacability was met with a raised eyebrow.

“Phinaa…” Percival Graves did not whine. Often.

Her lips twitched.

“It’ll be good for you Percy. Help you loosen that stick you’ve had shoved up your ass since the start of semester. Besides, I’m sure there are plenty of junior faculty who’d just love to sit on Santa’s lap.”

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._ Maybe he’d just resign.

When Vice Chancellor Picquery stepped through the door of Newt’s office, he inhaled his tea in alarm and proceeded to splutter and cough for the next few minutes. Picquery simply waited for him to finish.

“M-Madam Picquery!” he finally managed, with only a little bit of hand waving and an aborted bow. He wanted to offer her a seat but at that moment he couldn’t find one. She seemed born to stand anyway.

“Dr Scamander. You are aware of the faculty Christmas party this weekend, yes?”

Newt was pretty damn sure he was having an out of body experience.

“Um…yes? I mean, I’m still not sure if I will be attending, but-“

“I would strongly advise that you do.” He was now very likely resembling a cross between an owl and a fish. “See, it has come to my attention that there is a certain…connection…between you and Dean Graves-“

Newt did his very best to protest but she waved him off. “I am aware of your relationship, Dr Scamander. I also did not say that the connection was exclusive to you. In fact, it would be best if you and Mr Barebone would both attend.”

“Ma’am, I must admit to being rather confused.” Picquery sighed, and softened slightly.

“Percival Graves is a very old friend of mine. He is, in many ways, an ass, but he is a good man. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, and at Mr Barebone, and it is something I have seen rarely enough over our friendship. If I am not mistaken, you have not seemed uninterested.”

“I…well- it’s complicated…”

“My suggestion is simply that you both attend the party. I have forced Percival to participate in a manner which will push him out of his comfort zone, and I do believe it would be the perfect opportunity for you and Barebone.”

“The opportunity to what?”

Oooh there was that eyebrow again.

“Use your imagination.”

Picquery turned toward the door, with a final word before she left.

“And if you have difficulty with that, speak to Miss Goldstein. She has a few rather enlightening ideas.”

Newt wished he had recorded this conversation, if only to prove to himself that it happened.

Credence liked to think he’d come a long way from the scared boy he’d once been, but when Queenie Goldstein’s face popped out of a random door on his way to Newt’s office he found himself leaping a clean foot in the air.

“Hey sugar! Fancy meeting you here!”

Queenie looked like sunshine like always, but Credence had a well-developed ‘impending-doom’ sense that Newt and his endless experiments kept honed. He was about to get roped into something questionable, as both of the Goldsteins were well aware of the fact that Newt simply could not say no to Credence and generally targeted him first. He pretended to mind.

“Jeez Queen, give a guy a bit of warning!”

“Aww I’m sorry baby, didn’t mean to scare ya.” He smiled to let her know he wasn’t really mad. She took hold of his arm and began to march along the corridor.

“You got a minute? I’ve got a very interesting proposal for you and that recluse you call a boyfriend,” she said with a wink.

“This is going to involve public humiliation isn’t it?”

“Humiliation - no. Public - kinda. It’ll be worth it though!” She was glancing around, making sure there were no other people around them. This was going to be bad.

“So, here’s the thing…”

“Swear on all of our lives, Queenie Goldstein, that this will not end in us moving to Antarctica.”

Newt was pulling at the crotch of his costume, which was successfully distracting Credence from his own impending disaster. Or maybe that was the tequila Queenie had poured down both their throats.

“Pssh, you’d love to be in Anarctica, so don’t use that as an excuse. And my source is iron clad.”

Credence had begun to mindlessly sway, feeling the fabric brushing against his bare skin. Queenie looked awfully serious for a moment.

“The question you both need to answer is do you want some kinky Christmas sexy times with Mr Graves?”

“So much yes.”

Oops, he hadn’t really meant to say that aloud. Newt was grinning though, so maybe it was okay. Newt had told him a few months ago while drunk and sleep deprived that he was hard pressed to choose whether he’d rather swallow Graves’ cock or watch Credence ride him. Credence found himself quite torn about it too.

“Give me some more of that tequila Queenie,” Newt said, winking at Credence. She handed them both a shot with glee.

“What is it you always say Newt? ‘Worrying makes you suffer twice’?” She barely made a face at all at her own drink.

“Maybe it could be like our own mating dance?” Credence volunteered. Newt tilted his head, appearing to consider it. A familiar smirk crawled across his face, darkening his eyes and making Credence shiver.

“Well, my darling,” he said, moving to hold Credence’s hip. “It looks like we have ourselves a Mr Graves to seduce.”

On the evening of the party, Graves was feeling much more optimistic than he had earlier in the week. Seraphina had bought him some lovely Italian and plied him with his favourite whiskey afterwards. In fact, he was feeling quite seasonal.

At least the costume Phina had got for him wasn’t some cheap mall knock-off and she didn’t make him wear a fake beard. Most of his colleagues and subordinates ~~minions~~ hated his guts anyway and the feeling was usually mutual. He’d just put the fear of Graves into them again in the New Year - there, New Year’s resolution made and everything! Besides, anyone who he might have cared about seeing him in a less than refined state, meaning a certain reclusive genius zoologist and his unfairly beautiful young boyfriend, were very unlikely to come within miles of a faculty party.

_Confidence, Percival. Walk into a room like you own it and people will behave as if you do._ His mother’s words came back to him and he nodded to himself, pushing away a pang at the thought of her.

Phina had the good sense to stick with him. She’d even arranged for a fucking throne. Good job Percival had always wanted a throne. He turned his nose up at her and draped himself into the plush chair while the gaping minions finally found their wits enough to bring them drinks.  


After a good half hour or so, Percival was thinking this wasn’t so bad. No one was laughing. In fact, if he wasn’t wrong (and he usually wasn’t, all those years of being a hound in his youth had given him finely honed instincts) a good portion of the room were having a crisis of discovering that they could find Santa Claus sexy. _Still got it, old man._

Then the song changed abruptly and conversations seemed to die down. _Fuck, what now?_ The opening strains of fucking Mariah Carey were now filling the room, and that’s when he saw them.

Queenie Goldstein came in first, dressed impeccably in a flirty santa costume that made half the room lose blood above the waist, but that wasn’t much of a surprise. Queenie always liked to dress up. It was who she was leading that made Graves’ jaw drop.

_Fucking Christ on a pogo-stick_ , Newt Scamander and Credence Barebone were strutting their way through the crowd towards him. He briefly thought of panicking and diving behind the throne but all higher functions had abandoned him in the face of their attire.

They were both dressed as elves, decked out in green. Newt was wearing some kind of lederhosen that barely covered his sweet little ass, but buttoned up to the neck in a frilly short sleeved shirt. Just to top it all off he was in knee high white socks with little green bows. He looked like a dirty schoolboy fantasy come to life, ‘elf’ costume or no.

_My god, he has freckles on his thighs._

And Credence - Credence was wearing what could only optimistically be called a dress, a little green velvet thing that flared out from his waist, ending in plush white fur that just barely tragically covered his behind from view. Rather than socks, he was wearing white stockings and fucking heels, towering like a lithe statue come to life.

They were mouthing along with the music, shimmying closer to Percival. They stopped, one on either side of his throne, and pulled him upright before sandwiching him between them and beginning to dance. Newt in front of him - he could smell something like cinnamon coming from those curls, that taut ass wiggling back and forth so goddamn close to where his dick was perking up and taking notice of the proceedings. His hands twitched with the need to touch.

He nearly moaned aloud when he felt Credence press close behind him, grinding against him. The boy was so tall now in those heels he easily hooked his chin over Percival’s shoulder. His lips were painted in something sparkly and _fuck_ he could actually smell its sweetness, like cranberry and vanilla. Credence took his hands, placing them on Newt’s waist.

“Go ahead Santa, you can touch.”

His hands looked so big against Newt’s slender body. When the man winked at him over his shoulder he tightened his grip and got a gasp in response. He was pressed so close now, no space between their bodies as the gorgeous little teases moved in sync.

_This is what it would be like between them if they were fucking._

He was sweating through that fucking santa suit, wishing to god he could get some more friction.

For the final chorus Newt and Credence pushed him back into the chair, seating themselves on either side of him and stroking his face as they pretended to sing. They leaned in close on the closing bars, Graves could barely breathe, and then fuck it all they were kissing, slick mouths moving against one another inches from his face. He could see the way Newt chased the taste of Credence’s lip gloss, the way the younger man’s mouth pulled into a feline smile before he nipped at his boyfriend’s bottom lip.

Finally they broke apart to the sound of cheering and hollering but they weren’t paying attention, their eyes blown wide as they looked at Graves. Newt pressed a wet kiss to his cheek, just shy of his mouth, as Credence whispered, “Merry Christmas Mr Graves.” He couldn’t help the noise he made.

“Please,” he said, voice cracking.

“Come with us?” Newt asked. Percival was out of that throne faster than any intoxicated man with a hard on had any right to, pulling his boys behind him as Seraphina and Queenie drew the crowd’s attention.

He dragged them up the corridor all the way to his office. _How was Credence walking in those shoes? My god, maybe he does it all the time._

Once inside he let go and took one deep breath.

“Tell me that wasn’t just a joke.”

Newt stepped forward after a glance at Credence.

“It wasn’t a joke. We want you, Percival, if you’ll have us.”

He felt like he was dreaming. Or dying. Maybe both. But Credence was nodding, moving closer, strangely shy now after the lewdness of earlier.

“God, c’mere,” Percival said, reaching out to cup both of their faces in each hand. “You’re both so goddamn beautiful. I can’t believe you’re here.” Credence was leaning into his touch like a kitten and there was Newt’s sunshine smile.

Newt was the first to kiss him, warm gentle lips pressing and coaxing, something sweet that soon became slick, open-mouthed. When they broke for air they found Credence with eyes blown wide, hand squeezing between his own legs at the sight of them. Newt turned to nibble on his ear, “Your turn little love.”

Percival was expecting hesitance, but Credence kissed like a force of nature, eager and all-consuming. He tugged on the boy’s hair just a little until he whined into their kiss. “Eager baby,” he murmured, swiping at the smudged gloss on Credence’s bottom lip. Newt had taken the opportunity to run his hands over every bit of Percival he could reach before dropping to his knees.

“I’m going to suck your cock, Mr Graves, and you’re going to make our darling boy come while I watch.”

_Fuck yes._

Credence whimpered, grinding mindlessly against Percival’s side. Newt made quick work of the santa suit pants before reaching up to hold on to one of Credence’s hands. “Let’s see what you’ve got Santa,” Newt said winking, before licking a stripe up Graves’ cock. Credence was staring open mouthed at Newt licking so eagerly at his thick cock. Percival groaned when Newt stopped to murmur right against his fucking dick, “You promised me a show boys.”

Percival turned to the needy boy beside him, taking his mouth again in a rough kiss. Credence surrendered so sweetly. He ran a hand up a stocking clad thigh before reaching a hot, satin covered bulge. The boy was wearing fucking panties. They could barely contain his frankly impressive cock, wet head poking up above the lace top.

“Holy shit baby boy, that’s quite a handful.”

He stroked him a few times through the fabric before shoving the panties down and pumping him properly. God, how did he get so lucky. Newt was groaning around the cock in his mouth, watching them with wet eyes. He had unbuttoned his little lederhosen to free his own cock and was fucking his fist desperately.

“Such a slut Newt, who’d’ve thought? Look at you, so turned on you gotta touch yourself with my cock down your throat while I take care of your boyfriend.”

Percival never could stop his mouth running during sex, but it seemed they were both into it. Newt brought one of Percival’s hands to his own head, encouraging him to fuck into his mouth. He was still holding hands with Credence.

_They’re so goddamn cute._

Credence was sucking on Percival’s neck, humping into his hand with little cries. He wasn’t going to last much longer.

“That’s it Cree, so good baby. You’re fucking gorgeous, look at you - wanna see you come baby boy.”

Credence whined, cock twitching. Percival had such a bad thought.

He looked down at where Newt was trying to suck his soul out through his dick and met his eyes. “Shall he paint your pretty face Newt?” Newt tried to nod around his mouthful, eyes rolling back in his head.

“You heard him baby, let me see you come, let me see you cover that pretty face.”

Newt closed his eyes as Credence cried out and let go, pulsing white over his freckled skin and golden curls. He made such a picture, his own cock spurting across the green costume as he was covered in his lover’s seed. Graves thrust once, twice, and was gone, spending himself into Newt’s throat with a groan.

They came down to earth slowly.

Newt began to giggle. His eyes were still closed.

“Can someone get me a tissue please?” Credence giggled back and stumbled his way over to a box on the desk. Percival was sure his brain was still dripping out his ears; he lowered himself to sit beside Newt and clean him off before his knees gave out. Credence pecked him on the lips before doing the same to Newt. When Newt kissed his forehead in return, Percival had to restrain himself from making some kind of noise at their combined sheer adorableness. He stroked their heads instead, receiving matching wobbly smiles. Credence’s eyes were drooping.

“You sleepy darling?” Newt asked him. The boy nodded in response, nuzzling into his boyfriend but keeping a hold of Percival.

_Fuck it_ , they made the first move (and what a move) - Percival could take a chance here.

“You like Christmas trees, Credence?” He nodded with a little smile.

“Well I just so happen to have a really big one at my house. And a bed that isn’t much smaller, if you’re interested.”

At Credence’s nod, Newt took hold of his hand with a soft expression.

“I think we’d like that very much.”

_Merry Christmas to me then._

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on tumblr if you'd like: @fantastikobskurials


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